Friend in Need
by perseph1ne
Summary: Before Mac takes Richie in, Richie goes to see an old friend; Peter Caine.


**Friend in Need**

Disclaimer: I do not own Highlander or Kung Fu: TLC. I am making no money off this fanfiction.

Spoilers: Story takes place after The Gathering, but before MacLeod hired Richie. In Kung Fu, Blaisdell is still captain. The BIG AU in this is Peter's age; I've dropped him down a few years.  
  
Richie huddled in the abandoned warehouse, legs drawn up for warmth. The night was very cold and Richie had only a few layers to protect himself from the biting wind. He shivered as another gust of wind tugged at his jacket. He had been warmer last night when he had followed the guys with swords. Last night had shaken him more than he cared to admit. Seeing someone killed right before his eyes was not an everyday occurrence. Part of him expected the sword guy to come after him, but somehow that didn't seem to be his style. This warehouse was not cutting it; he had to find some place warmer to stay. He didn't want to venture out into the night with Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod maybe after him. He wasn't safe; he knew he wasn't safe, but there was no place safe for him. He hadn't felt truly safe for a long time, not since Peter.

Peter had saved his life and sanity on numerous occasions. Back at the orphanage, Peter had watched over the younger boy. Small for his age and ignorant of any fighting skills; Richie had been easy pickings for the bullies. Peter had stepped in several times and saved Richie from a beating. Peter had been like a big brother to the confused, lonely youth. He wondered if Peter was on duty tonight. While Richie was being bounced from one lousy foster home to another, Peter had snagged a good family and become a cop. It was so ironic; his one time best friend was a cop and he was a thief. But maybe a cop that he could trust was just what he needed; Peter would probably protect him if Richie really needed help.

Without really noticing what he was doing, Richie had gotten up and started to move toward the 101st precinct. Every step reminded him that he had taken a beating late last night. The walk back from the river had been a long cold one and all he had wanted to do was curl up and fall asleep. Unfortunately when he had arrived at his turf, the patch of ally behind the bakery, a gang of bigger guys was already there. They made it quite clear that he wasn't welcome and proved their point by beating the shit out of him. Sometime early this morning he had found the abandoned warehouse and slept most of the day.

He snapped out of his thoughts as he arrived at the 101st. Fighting down the instinctive fear of all cops, he inched his way into the busy precinct. The outer chaos of the police station seemed to accurately mirror his inner turmoil and Richie wondered what the hell he was thinking. He faded into the shadows and started to turn away. He shouldn't be here; Peter had his own life and didn't need Richie to bring him any more trouble. Richie's eyes were drawn to the entrance doors as two familiar figures walked into the station. Peter hadn't changed much in the two years since Richie had last seen him. He was older, of course, and his hair was a bit longer, but he was still Peter. Paul Blaisdell still looked like a force to be reckoned with, but right now his attention was on his foster son.

Richie moved minutely, trying to slip away before he was noticed. Paul and Peter walked past him and Richie breathed a little easier. However, before he could make good his escape, Peter turned and walked back to Richie. Peter came to a dead stop in front of the teenager. "Richie," he asked in a whisper, "What happened?"

Richie raised his eyes to his friend and reached out a hand. "Peter," he rasped as he felt his strength fail him. He half-collapsed into Peter's arms and felt his friend hold him close. A few seconds later, Richie found himself shaking and sobbing in Peter's embrace. It had been years since he had lost it this bad. Peter tightened his grip, as Richie seemed to fall apart. He easily supported Richie's weight and inwardly winced at how light the kid felt. Peter gently laid his cheek on the top of Richie's head and rubbed his back soothingly. Using a barely remembered Shoalin technique, Peter extended his chi so that it wrapped Richie in warmth. Peter whispered reassurances to the shaking boy and felt the air stir as Paul moved to the pair.

Paul slipped off his coat and laid it across Richie's trembling shoulders. Richie gazed up at Paul Blaisdell as he draped his huge coat over the teen's shoulders. He tried to smile at Paul, but it took to much effort to maintain it. Everything was so completely wrong; he couldn't begin to pretend that anything was right. Peter pulled back and, bereft of the human contact, Richie stared at Peter forlornly. Peter smiled gently and put an arm around Richie's shoulders. He drew Richie close and said, "Come on, kid. Let me show you my apartment." Grateful to be leaving the police station, he wordlessly let Peter steer him out the door. Paul gazed after them and made a mental note to drop by Peter's apartment after work. He would also let his son have a few days to watch over Richie; the kid seemed to be in trouble again. Caught up in his own thoughts, he didn't hear Kermit walk up behind him.

"Was that Richie," he asked quietly. At Paul's nod, Kermit's jaw tightened. "He looked terrible," said Kermit, "worse than the first time I met him."  
  
** FLASHBACK**

"Paul, are you sure you want me along," asked Kermit, "I mean, it is a family trip."

"You're family, Kermit," Paul replied, "Besides, I think it'll help Peter to have another non-blood relation along."

"What are you two whispering about up there," Annie asked from the middle seats of the van.

"Nothing, dear," called Paul, "just guy stuff." Her snort of amusement told Paul what she thought of that idea. He smiled fondly and maneuvered the van into Pineridge's parking lot. Stepping out of the van and walking to the front door, Kermit was very aware of the eyes tracking their movements. As they walked through the main doors, a young, curly-haired boy met them.

Paul smiled at the kid, "Hi, Richie. Peter's running late?" Richie started to nod, but with a wince stopped.

"Yeah, it's my fault though. He got a bloody nose from stopping a couple of guys from beating me up."

Kermit leaned down and studied the boy, "Looks like he didn't jump in quick enough." Richie fingered his already blackening eye and shrugged. The main door banged open, causing the three people to jump in surprise.

Caroline dashed through the doors and skidded to a halt beside her father. "Hey Dad," she started breathlessly, "Mom says to hurry up. Isn't Peter ready yet? I swear, that boy couldn't be on time to save his life. Oh, hi Richie. When did you get out of the hospital?"

"Monday," he softly said. Sensing something amiss with her young friend; she moved around to him and slung an arm over his shoulders. "Why don't we go outside and talk," she suggested. Then she glanced at her dad and started moving Richie toward a side door; "We won't be long, just until Peter gets down." Richie looked a little uncertain, but conceded to walk outside with her.

Kermit turned to Paul and asked, "Why was he in the hospital?" Paul shook his head, "I don't know all the details, but it had something to do with his last foster father. He was in the hospital for nearly two weeks, half that time was spent in a coma hooked up to a bunch of machines. Peter almost went out of his mind with worry. He was at the hospital every moment he could get away. He even managed to get them to let him stay overnight a couple of times."

A clatter on the stairs caught their attention and Peter rushed down holding an ice pack to his nose. "Hello Paul," he said with a small smile, "And you're Kermit, right? Paul said you always wore green glasses." He turned around and frowned in confusion, "Where's Richie?"

"He and Carol went outside to talk," Paul explained. Peter blinked in surprise and stared at the side door thoughtfully.

"He's talking to Carol? I didn't think of her," he said to himself, "I wonder if she can handle it. Maybe I should go and check on them." He was out the door before they could comment. Paul and Kermit looked at each other in confusion, but simply shrugged and waited for the kids to come back.

The sound of running feet turned their attention to the side door, and Carol threw herself into her father's arms. Alarmed by her apparent distress, Paul held his daughter and tried to find out what happened. "How," she asked in anguish, "How could anyone be that cruel to a sweet kid like Richie? Why, Daddy? Why would anyone hurt him so much? I don't understand." She tried to get a hold of her emotions, but her tears still trickled down her cheeks.

Paul felt a lump of ice settle in his stomach and he reached out to his daughter. Bringing her into the safety of his arms; he murmured, "I don't know, baby. I don't know."

Carol looked up at her father's sad face and suddenly realized that he couldn't make this all better. She bit her lower lip thoughtfully, "Maybe, maybe we could invite Richie along with us to the cabin? I think he really needs a good time." She raised her hopeful eyes and found her father smiling proudly down at her.

"I think that would be a wonderful idea," he said, "Why don't you run and tell your mother about the change of plans?" Carol nodded happily and skipped through the doors to the van. Kermit nudged him and Paul turned to see Peter and Richie walk through the side door. "Hey, guys," Paul said, "Change of plans. Richie grab some clothes, Carol decided if I got to invite a friend then so did she." Richie blinked in shock, and Peter grinned widely. Then the boys whirled around and started up the stairs, both smiling from ear to ear.


End file.
